Changing Skies
by Mila of the Grain
Summary: The sky is all shades of blue and grey and white.  It might rain today or it might not, she'd be able to tell him if she was here, but she isn't. She never will be. "We watched a storm be born here," Briar finally manages to say. Niko & Briar on a roof.


**Changing Skies**

Briar spreads his arms out by his sides for balance as he near tip-toes across the roof. He understands now, why Niko was so dismayed at Briar and his sisters' preoccupation with sitting on Discipline's thatched roof. It doesn't feel so safe when your joints are old and you have arthritis in your knee. Even so, he needs to do this, even if it might be the last time he sits up here.

Shuffling eagerly to the chimney, Briar reaches it and carefully slides down so his back is to the chimney and he's straddling the roof. _There_, now he feels safer, like he's not just going to topple off the perch and crash down into what was once Rosethorn's garden.

It's someone else's garden now.

Oh, Briar can't begrudge the squat air temple dedicate who tends the vegetables and fruits now that Rosethorn has passed. Dedicate Whitestork is a friendly woman who has kept order in Rosie's garden, and Briar is thankful. From his current vantage point on the roof, Briar notes that many of the plants are gone and a large aviary now takes up the eastern corner of the yard. It's strange that it doesn't hurt very much to look at the changes.

He's not sitting up here as a vigil for Rosethorn; his mother-sister-friend left almost twenty years ago and she would get so cross at Briar if he was still moping about her death. Sweet Lark, who was only ever sweet to anyone, had met a violent end in the Mire not long afterwards. Many of Briar's other mentors were still healthy and still had many years left in them. Crane would probably live to be over 200 years old, simply to prove that he (like his plants) didn't have to adhere to nature's cycles.

Briar's eyes grow misty for a moment and he grits his teeth in defiance, determined to keep the tears away. He takes deep breaths, one after the other, and finally the closing feeling in his throat and the squeezing hand around his heart both ease off. The view is still pretty up here, even without Rosethorn toiling away at the garden below. Narrow pathways circle and loop in the distance, cut into the landscape, and Briar ignores the memories that attempt to ambush him.

"The roof, really?" A light baritone voice floats up from the now-open hatch, prompting Briar to wet his lips nervously. He nods and repositions himself to make room for Niko. The other man looks sharper than ever, despite there being no hint of pepper left in what once was salt-and-pepper hair. "Couldn't the temple walls hold the same sentimental value? They're a lot sturdier, you know," Niko reminds Briar sensibly.

The green mage nods his head but no words will come out. He realises with disappointment that he has lost his battle. The tears are _hot_ and freely rolling down his cheeks. Ashamed, he turns his face away and stays silent because he still can't manage a word. Over time the clawing inside his chest dissipates, but the dead feeling in his stomach remains. He can speak.

The sky is all shades of blue and grey and white. It might rain today or it might not, she'd be able to tell him if she was here, but she's not. She never will be. "We watched a storm be born here," Briar finally manages to say, "I wouldn't believe her. How could tiny white puffs turn into huge grey thunderclouds? But she pointed them out and I watched, and I think it was the first time we got along."

Niko's fingers feel thin and bony on Briar's shoulder, the gesture is the perfect measure of comfort and sensibility. Briar bows his head; he can't look at the sky anymore because it is too much _Tris_. It's like he's drowning, which is silly, because he's sitting on a roof and the ocean is ten minutes walk away. "That day you didn't shy away from her? You didn't call her names or give her strange looks?" Niko's prompts are voiced in soft and curious tones.

Briar shakes his head while he stares at his lap, at the thatching, at his fingers and at the ground, at anything that isn't all blue and grey and white mixed together. "I might've teased her for being a girl. I don't know, it was over forty years ago," though it seems like such an important thing to remember. He wishes that he could.

"I think perhaps…" Niko trails off and there is silence between them for a minute while he picks his words. "That's why you were so close, Briar. You were probably the first person to tease her, good-naturedly, about something as normal as being a girl."

Nodding seems like the only thing that Briar can do. He doesn't want to cry again, and talking seems too hard. Eventually he has to say something, because Niko is patiently waiting. It seems like such a simple thing to say, and he shouldn't need to, but Niko has never been an advocate of denial. "It hurts," Briar whimpers, his voice cracking and the reality of the situation crashing down around him.

Trisana Chandler died, and now Briar has to deal with the aftermath, even if it hurts.

"It does, doesn't it?" Niko agrees gravely. He lets his hand drop from Briar's shoulder and surveys the scenery that holds just as many memories for him as it does for the other man. "But don't you forget that I am older than you, wiser than you, more worldly than you, and I've been through things like this before. The pain lessens over time until it becomes nostalgia. Then, in those times that you feel alone, you'll realise you're glad she went first, because it's saved her from some pain."

It doesn't make sense to Briar because he isn't quite _there_ yet. The pain of losing one of his sisters is still too raw for him to think ahead to a future where it doesn't hurt as much anymore. However, Briar trusts Niko and can admit that the older, wiser, worldlier mage is always right. "Over time, you say?" He asks tentatively, first rubbing at his eyes before he tilts his face up to the sun.

"Over time," Niko answers.

Together they watch the clouds forming and moving across the sky. There are blues and greys and whites mixed together, and some change while others stay the same. It is almost perfect except Briar wishes there was lightning and thunder, but he supposes he always will.


End file.
